In Sickness
by WeasleySeeker
Summary: AU in which it is Hermione rather than Dobby who gets hit by Bellatrix's dagger at the end of the Malfoy Manor scene. Ron's thoughts in her final moments. (warning: character death)


**A/N: I hate myself for writing this. I really do. But after this evil idea somehow came into my head, it wouldn't leave again... so I had to write it and stop it from bothering me. So here we are.**

* * *

"Hermione!" you scream, spinning around in panic as you wait for her to materialise.

It can't be true. Not Hermione. You drop to your knees, and all you can wish for is to find that what you saw in that split second before you Disapparated was a figment of your imagination.

It wasn't.

There's a small pop and she appears, supported by Harry. If it weren't for the dazed look on her face it would almost be as if nothing was wrong, but then you see it. Bellatrix's dagger is lodged in her chest, and the bloodstain is starting to spread across her chest.

You motion to take it out, but Harry stops you. "No!" The urgency in his voice scares you. "You can't take it out. You might rupture something."

You're confused. She can't just go walking around with a dagger sticking out of her for the rest of her life, can she? Because Hermione isn't going to die. She _can't._

"I'm... fine. I'm okay," Hermione says absently, but Harry shakes his head.

"Let's get her inside. Quickly," he urges, and you're just about with it enough to allow Harry to drape Hermione's left arm over your shoulder as he takes the right. "Dobby," he says, turning to the elf before they set off across the beach. "I can't thank you enough."

"Anything for Harry Potter, sir," the elf squeaks, and you want to thank him too - if he hadn't got you out, you're sure that Hermione's fate would be a lot worse - but your throat has gone dry and you can't produce words, so you concentrate on heaving Hermione towards the cottage.

She keeps letting out little grunts, and it makes you feel sick. Then you realise she's saying your name.

"Ron?"

"It'll be okay, Hermione," you finally manage to choke out. "Everything will be okay." You can't look her in the eye.

Suddenly, you notice a movement in the distance: Bill must have seen you from inside, and he comes running towards you.

"Oh, Merlin," he says when he sees you properly, sucking in a breath. He waves his wand and conjures a stretcher from thin air, and you curse yourself for not thinking of that before. (You're not sure if you know the incantation, anyway.)

You reach the house and Bill rushes in before you, calling for Fleur. "Spare room, quick!" he instructs you; you know where it is, so you and Harry take the stretcher and lay Hermione carefully down on the bed.

"You're going to be fine," you tell her again, but she doesn't say anything.

Fleur comes in, laden with bandages and ointments, but when she sees Hermione she stops dead in her tracks.

"Come on," you demand. "Do something! Why isn't she doing anything?"

"Ron," Hermione says, using what little energy she has to take hold of your hand. "I love you. And I've been _awful_ towards you over the years, and I'm-"

_"No!"_ You cut her off. You never thought you'd hear her say these words, but right now you don't want to hear them. Because they sound like a goodbye. "I love you too, Hermione, but please... you can't give up."

She shakes her head, and gestures for you to come closer. "Ron, you have to find them," she whispers, and by _them_ you know she means the Horcruxes. You don't want to think about the Horcruxes. If it wasn't for the Horcruxes, none of you would be here right now. "You have to end this."

"Come on, Hermione, you're a survivor!" you declare, ignoring what she says and looking around at the others. You don't know what you want from them - some kind of agreement, perhaps? But their grim expressions don't change. "You're going to get through this," you say. "You're going to finish school, liberate house elves, buy a little house in the countryside, make babies..."

A tear starts to streak down her cheek, and the reality starts to hit you: she's going to die, and there's nothing you or anyone else can do about it.

You can already feel her grip on your hand slackening.

"Marry me," you say suddenly, taking even yourself by surprise.

"Ron..." Bill says warningly from behind you, always the realist. But you know what he's saying. She's not going to live to see tomorrow, and there's no point making this any harder than it already is.

But you can't let her die without her knowing how you really feel about her.

You look behind you and Harry catches your eye. He comes further into the room and he's shaking, but he does it.

"Do you, Ronald Bilius Weasley, take Hermione-"

"Wait." You stop him, because you can feel Hermione getting weaker by the minute, and you don't think you can bear to hear the words _in sickness._ "Who needs the old-fashioned vows? They're the words that everyone says. And you're not everyone, Hermione."

You think you see an almost-smile grace her beautiful face, although it's difficult to distinguish from a grimace of pain.

"You first," she says.

Nerves wash through you, even in this bizarre situation. You've never been good at words, but Hermione is bleeding to death in front of you, so you decide you'd better get on with it and say what you feel.

"Hermione, you're the only one I've ever loved. I hope you know that. You're my world, and I wish I'd just got off my arse and told you, because it's true and now I'll never get the chance again." You're fighting back the tears, because you're not supposed to cry when you're saying your wedding vows. At least, you're not supposed to cry from sorrow. "We should have had years - no, _decades _together, and I can't believe that's being taken from you. But you're amazing and strong and I'll always, always remember that."

"Ron," she beings, and she _is _crying, and you want to ignore how ragged and uneven her breathing sounds, "I love you just as much as you say you love me, and you h... have to believe that."

"You can stop... if it's hurting you," you say, but she shakes her head and carries on.

"Please... please, Ron... live your life. I don't want you to f-forget me, but p-p-please, move on. F-find someone new. Fall in love. H-have a family. For me. Promise."

You nod, even though you don't think you can ever fall in love again.

She turns to Harry. "Stay safe," she says. "All - all of you."

Some people look peaceful when they die. You can close their eyes and it's as if they're just sleeping. But unless you try to convince yourself that somebody's upended a ketchup bottle over Hermione's chest, there's no other way to mistake the bloodstain covering her shirt.

You point your wand at her. "Tergeo," you mutter, remembering one of those household spells that Hermione would use to clean up your spillages, but it doesn't work. Either you're too distressed, or it doesn't work on blood.

You can't fight off your sobs for any longer, so you don't know exactly when she took her last breath, but you know that it was far too soon.

* * *

**A/N: I'm not sure how realistic this is time-wise, given that Dobby died within like a minute after being hit by the dagger, but I'm thinking that Hermione's human body would be stronger than his tiny elf one?**

**Anyway, I hope you appreciate this on some level, because the amount I cried over it is not even funny. And now I can't stop thinking about how different the whole story would be if there was no Hermione after this point... oHOIUhfsoisdhgih.**

**Written for the Unusual Engagement Competition on HPFC with the prompt _Grim Reaper_.**


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